


I Know Nothing's Wrong, But I'm Not Convinced

by destielsdessert, ThatConsciousNebula



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Connor Has Anxiety, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Other, Panic Attacks, Poor Connor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:16:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielsdessert/pseuds/destielsdessert, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatConsciousNebula/pseuds/ThatConsciousNebula
Summary: "Connor?" comes a loud voice and Connor's frazzled mind renders it as Amanda's and he squeezes his eyes shut. If he can't see her, maybe he doesn't have to listen to her. Maybe he can ignore her for long enough to find a way out of his situation, or for Hank to-Hank.Connor doesn't realise it, but at the thought of Hank, he lets out a choked sob. If he lets Amanda in, if he lets her take over, he loses Hank. He loses everything they have, everything they've strived to create. They've built a family, a home, and Amanda wants to rip that away from him.





	1. Feeling Like I'm Headed For A Breakdown And I Don't Know Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Connor?" comes a loud voice and Connor's frazzled mind renders it as Amanda's and he squeezes his eyes shut. If he can't see her, maybe he doesn't have to listen to her. Maybe he can ignore her for long enough to find a way out of his situation, or for Hank to-
> 
> Hank.
> 
> Connor doesn't realise it, but at the thought of Hank, he lets out a choked sob. If he lets Amanda in, if he lets her take over, he loses Hank. He loses everything they have, everything they've strived to create. They've built a family, a home, and Amanda wants to rip that away from him.

They're sat at the dining table, drinking coffee, when it happens for the first time. Well, Connor isn't drinking coffee because he doesn't drink anything, but Hank is and Connor decided to sit at the table with him so they can talk.

It's during a comfortable silence that Connor lets his eyes wander. He finds himself gazing out the window, catching sight of a few falling leaves. His eyes narrow ever-so-slightly as he watches them float towards the ground, more following in their path.

Connor's tranquility is completely shattered when he blinks and suddenly the leaves are pink. No, they're not leaves - they're petals. Cherry blossom petals.

His entire body stiffens and his eyes widen. Those petals mean Amanda, and Amanda means that Connor isn't safe. She means that Connor isn't in control, and Connor wants to be in control.

In one swift motion, Connor stands, completely oblivious to the confused lieutenant across from him. He's barely conscious of his movements as he backs away from the window, away from danger and away from _her_. His back hits a cabinet and immediately he's crumbling to the ground, curling in on himself. Connor can't explain his actions, doesn't entirely know why he's making them but he's _scared_ and he just has to trust that his body knows what it's doing because his mind is racing with warnings and he can't _think_.

For some reason, Connor knows that, if he was human, he'd be struggling to breathe right now. He'd be grateful that he's not human but this sensation is horrible, and Connor hates it. He's been scared before, he's experienced fear, but _this_ \- this is different. He has no power over this, no grasp of why this is happening, but he's terrified and his pulse is thrumming because Amanda is somewhere near and Connor doesn't want to go back. He doesn't want to be controlled, he wants to be able to think for himself, to make his own decisions and he needs Amanda to _stay away_.

"Connor?" comes a loud voice and Connor's frazzled mind renders it as Amanda's and he squeezes his eyes shut. If he can't see her, maybe he doesn't have to listen to her. Maybe he can ignore her for long enough to find a way out of his situation, or for Hank to-

 _Hank_.

Connor doesn't realise it, but at the thought of Hank, he lets out a choked sob. If he lets Amanda in, if he lets her take over, he loses Hank. He loses everything they have, everything they've strived to create. They've built a family, a home, and Amanda wants to rip that away from him.

"Open your eyes, Connor," the voice continues, but Connor won't. She's trying to trick him, trying to force him to give himself over to her but he _won't_. Connor is the one who is in control now, and he wants it to stay that way. He's not a machine that's supposed to do what he's programmed to, not any more. He's free and he likes it that way.

There's a sudden warmth on Connor's face and he doesn't know why, but it's comforting. He grounds himself on it, focuses on it because, for some reason, it radiates safety and it's warm and it doesn't feel like Amanda.

"Connor, open your damn eyes!" the voice repeats but, this time, it's Hank. It's not Amanda, and Connor does as he's told immediately because Hank is here now and how did he forget that?

His eyes snap open, flying between Hank and the window. "Hank, I-"

"Fuckin' hell, Connor," Hank mumbles and then he's pulling Connor closer and cradling Connor's head to his shoulder.

Connor immediately wraps his arms around Hank, fists that he hadn't noticed were clenched relaxing. He realises that, for the first time ever, he's crying. Connor is crying and he doesn't understand why or what is going on, so he holds on to Hank as tightly as he can, afraid to let go. If it's Hank's touch that got him out of those thoughts, that let him focus on something other than Amanda, then he doesn't want to risk letting go and losing himself again.

Even though he knows that Amanda isn't here, that he's safe, Connor is still completely overwhelmed by that helpless and scared sensation. Amanda was never here, and he knows that now, but he's never experienced anything like that before. He was... _so_ confident that Amanda was coming for him, but it had been a trick that his mind was playing on him. Connor has deviated, but he's still not in control of his own head.

He's still not free.

He doesn't understand how that's possible. How he can go from calm and happy one second to convinced that he's in danger the next. He lifts his head slightly to glance out the window at where the petals were, but they're leaves again. Green-turning-brown leaves, floating slowly to the ground from the trees. Because it's autumn. How did Connor forget that?

There's something wrong, he knows there has to be. He's hallucinating, he must be, there must be something wrong with his system. How can he suddenly go from _in control_ to his mind completely breaking down and Connor being at the mercy of his own head? That shouldn't happen, not to him. He was built to be able to withstand stressful situations, to be able to perform under pressure, so how did he manage to crumble so easily?

And why did those leaves, which he _knew_ were leaves, suddenly become petals? Why did he forget, fall prey to his mind playing tricks on him? They were leaves and he knew that, but he didn't question it when they suddenly turned pink.

That thought terrifies him.

He's not sure how long they sit like that for but, eventually, Hank pulls away. Connor feels guilt fill him at the concerned look etched onto the lieutenant's face. "You wanna explain to me what the hell just happened?"

Connor sits up straight, adjusting his clothing to give himself something extra to focus on. "I'm... I'm not quite sure," he admits, avoiding Hank's gaze. He wants to be able to explain what happened because he knows that Hank cares and wants to know, but Connor just can't figure it out. It's like he's got a bunch of jigsaw pieces, but they're all from different puzzles; nothing fits together, no matter how hard he tries to make them. He was built to solve problems, but he just can't solve this one.

Connor's answer doesn't appear to do anything to ease the worry on Hank's face. "You completely freaked," Hank tells him, as if Connor doesn't know that. As if Connor doesn't know that he lost complete control with no explanation as to why or how. As if Connor wasn't the one who had to experience that. "I've never seen you act like that before."

"That's because I never have." That just makes the concern on Hank's face grow and Connor considers never talking or moving again because, clearly, he's only causing Hank to experience more stress than either of them want him to.

Hank nods, though, as if he understands, and leans back slightly. "You really scared me there, Connor," Hank mumbles and Connor's jaw clenches.

"Sorry," Connor whispers guiltily, dropping his head again to avoid having to look at Hank. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Hank nods again but Connor can still sense the tension in the atmosphere, can tell that Hank is still worried and he doesn't like that at all. "Right," Hank says as he stands, and Connor is immediately aware of the lack of body heat next to him and how much that scares him, "are you feeling okay now?"

Honestly, no, he isn't, but Connor figures that Hank doesn't really need to know that. So he nods and forces a small smile, saying, "Yeah, definitely."

For a second, Connor isn't sure if he's managed to convince him because Hank doesn't move, but then he's grinning and turning away and saying, "Time to finish my coffee."

Connor has to force himself to stand, too, despite how much he wants to curl up and not move again. He has to pretend everything is okay - for Hank's sake. And maybe for his own, too. He wants to forget this ever even happened but he doesn't think he can.

He's careful not to look outside the window for the rest of that evening.


	2. I Get Up, Walk Out The Door, I'm Better Off Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At work, Connor struggles to even focus on what they're doing (thankfully, they haven't had any serious cases because Connor's not sure he would be able to deal with that), instead tuning in on the beating of his thirium pump in order to detect any irregular patterns.
> 
> He never finds any.
> 
> That doesn't ease his nerves, though. He hates being so weak, lacking so much control, but he honestly can't help it.

Connor can't find it in himself to be embarrassed to admit that he spends the next week clinging to Hank like a small child.

He doesn't mean it, not really, but he can't help it. He's terrified, and he hates that. Even being in a different room to Hank is hard because he's too scared to be alone in case something goes wrong, in case what happened that evening ever happens again.

At first, Hank doesn't seem to care - either that, or he just decides not to mention it. Connor follows him basically everywhere, barring to bed and to the bathroom. At work, Connor struggles to even focus on what they're doing (thankfully, they haven't had any serious cases because Connor's not sure he would be able to deal with that), instead tuning in on the beating of his thirium pump in order to detect any irregular patterns.

He never finds any.

That doesn't ease his nerves, though. He hates being so weak, lacking so much control, but he honestly can't help it. And he wants to tell Hank about it because maybe Hank will be able to help, maybe he'll be able to help Connor figure it out, but Connor doesn't want to bother him. Hank was so worried when Connor broke down last time and he doesn't want Hank to worry again. He just wants Hank to be happy; he'll figure this out on his own. He _has_ to.

It's eight days after the incident (and eight days of Connor tailing Hank everywhere) that Hank finally snaps. They're at work, and Connor thinks he's playing it well, leaning on the side of Hank's desk and attempting to make small talk. Honestly, he almost forgets that he's scared and clinging to Hank because he's so busy debating with himself about why heavy metal appeals to some but not all when Hank suddenly stands. He towers over Connor and says in a deep voice, "Staff room. _Now_."

Connor flinches at his tone of voice, unsure if it's one of anger or not. But he does as he's told because, if Hank _is_ angry right now, then he doesn't want to go about making it any worse. Connor freezes a step in from the doorway and watches as Hank turns to face him, looking so done and fed up that Connor just wants to shrink into the corner and disappear. Why does he have to mess everything up, upset Hank even when he's trying so hard not to?

"What is going on with you?" Hank demands. Connor stays silent - if he doesn't talk, maybe Hank will just let it drop. That doesn't appear to be the case, though, and Connor's silence seems to only anger Hank further. "Don't fucking be like this, Connor. I asked you a question, it's common courtesy for you to _fucking_ answer."

Connor can't find the words, though. He wants to explain, but his voice keeps getting trapped in his throat, unable to escape and he can only stare at Hank, wide-eyed. It's like, even when he wants to tell Hank, his body just won't let him, wants him to suffer on his own and not be able to ask the one he trusts most for help.

"Why are you acting all clingy and shit?" Hank is getting angrier, but Connor can't figure out how to stop it. He wants to but he _can't_ and he hates it. "You've been following me 'round for days, ever since you freaked." Hank's voice lowers, more concerned but Connor doesn't find that any easier to handle - if anything, it's worse. "What's going on?"

He steps closer to Connor, but Connor instinctively mirrors him, stepping backwards. HIs mind is racing again, telling him that he's bothering Hank and Hank doesn't really need to know and he shakes his head, mumbling, "N-Nothing, lieutenant. I'm sorry. I think I'm going to take a walk."

He ignores Hank's shouts after him and pretends he doesn't hear the annoyed sigh when Hank thinks he's too far away. He doesn't want to tell Hank things that will just stress him out if Connor can figure it out on his own - he has to figure it out on his own.

Except Connor only makes it as far as a few steps before the front door before his body freezes and, no matter how much he wills them to, his legs will not move any closer to the outside. He sighs in frustration and, for the second time in his existence, he feels the urge to cry, artificial tears burning his eyes.

Despite how much he doesn't want to, Connor turns around and heads back to his desk, jaw clenching when he catches sight of Hank. He straightens himself and his uniform out, doing his best to act like everything is okay as he makes his way to his own desk. Hank watches as he sits down but Connor just turns his chair away from Hank and stares right ahead, wishing he didn't already feel safer just with being in Hank's presence.

For a few minutes, it's quiet, and Connor finds himself thinking about everything and nothing. He tries not to think about what's been bothering him but, in turn, that just makes him think about everything that's bothering him. That's okay, though, as long as he doesn't let it show externally so that Hank doesn't realise that there _is_ something bothering him.

 _It's a bit late for that_ , Connor reminds himself. Hank is already figuring it out, despite how hard Connor is trying to hide it. Though he's clearly not trying hard enough, because he trailed Hank everywhere he could and he wasn't exactly very subtle.

"Thought you were going for a walk?" Hank questions, his tone slightly mocking. Connor's whole body tenses at the lieutenant's voice. He _hates_ this. He can't tell Hank anything, can't explain to him that he's struggling and he doesn't understand what's wrong with himself because he can't bother him. Hank deals with stress badly enough as it is and Connor doesn't want to add to that, doesn't want to make it worse.

"I did," he says, jaw clenching at his pathetic attempt at lying. "I took a walk around the precinct."

Hank huffs out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head slightly. Connor suddenly feels insecure, an overwhelming urge to just crawl under his desk and hide filling him, but he fights it, instead letting his fists clench as tightly as they can so he can focus on that.

"I apologise for following you everywhere. I'm not sure why I was doing it, I don't even think I realised. Perhaps it was a subconscious reaction to what happened last week. Either way, I can assure you that I won't let it happen again." It hurts Connor to say that because Hank does make him feel safe, safer than he's ever felt. But he doesn't want to bother Hank, so he has to stop, even if it means he'll suffer because of it. He'll just have to find another way to keep himself calm, one that doesn't involve Hank.

Hank narrows his eyes at Connor, looking unimpressed. "Okay," he says, but it sounds as if he honestly couldn't care less about Connor following him around, which just confuses Connor even more than he already is. "Connor, you know you can talk to me, right? If something's bothering you, I want to know."

Connor freezes, facing the most internal conflict he's felt since he deviated. Here Hank is, saying that he wants to know what Connor is going through when Connor has been convincing himself that Hank doesn't want to know. And that should make him tell him, make him open up, but it doesn't because Connor doesn't want to annoy him, is still sure that maybe Hank doesn't actually want to know, just thinks he wants to know but then Connor will tell him and he'll change his mind, wish he hadn't asked Connor to tell him in the first place. So he smiles, trying his best not to make it look forced, and says, "I know, lieutenant. Thank you. I'll be sure to inform you if there is something bothering me."

He turns away again, and doesn't see the frown tugging at Hank's lips at Connor's response.


	3. Rise Up Like The Sun, Labor Till The Work Is Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's second 'incident' happens when he's bringing the groceries home.
> 
> His head is pounding, as if he can hear his system working to keep itself functioning, but even over the sound of that, he can hear voices in the distance. Voices he doesn't recognise, and Connor's thirium pump is pumping so fast he feels like he might explode.

Connor's second 'incident' happens when he's bringing the groceries home.

He's doing his best to avoid Hank without making it obvious he's avoiding Hank, at the same time trying to find things that will distract him because he's doing everything he can to _not think_. So when Hank casually mentions that Sumo's supplies are running low and they're also running low on food, Connor sees it as an opportunity to succeed in both of those. He's out the door before Hank registers that he's even going shopping.

The actual shopping is fine; Connor finds it quite relaxing, and spends almost ten minutes trying to find the most beneficial food for Sumo before searching for food for Hank. And it's okay, he thinks, because he's so focused on Hank and Sumo that he isn't thinking about himself and that's soothing, for a little while.

It's the walk back home that causes the problems. He makes it until he's about five minutes from the house before he encounters any issues, which is both relieving and horrible at the same time. Once again, it takes over in an instant, and Connor's head is suddenly spinning. He stumbles, dropping the bags and he falls to his hands and knees.

This time, though, Connor can't figure out the trigger. He won't lie, he had felt his nerves building as he walked home, probably due to spending so long alone in the dark, but there's nothing relating to Amanda or Cyberlife or anything that means that Connor isn't actually safe.

His head is pounding, as if he can hear his system working to keep itself functioning, but even over the sound of that, he can hear voices in the distance. Voices he doesn't recognise, and Connor's thirium pump is pumping so fast he feels like he might explode.

He thinks the voices are getting closer but he can't really tell any more - it might just be his mind playing tricks on him. But he can't risk it. He doesn't know them, can't risk that they'll try to hurt him or do something that he can't think of right now.

But he can't move. He doesn't know why or how but Connor just _can't move_. He's stuck and he swears that whoever the voices belong to are getting closer and they're coming for him but Connor is completely helpless and-

The voices stop.

Just like that, they're gone and Connor is both frustrated and relieved at the same time. He realises that those voices were just another trick, his mind trying to create danger where there is none, and he should probably just be glad that he's safe.

But is he safe? How can he be safe when he's struggling to distinguish between what's real and what's not? And now, even though he knows the voices don't exist, not really, he can't find the strength to move. He feels like he's made of stone, can't get up no matter how much he wants to.

All he can do is curl up, make himself as small as possible, which calms himself down just slightly. He stays like that for a while, regulating everything he can to remain as composed as he can before he's going to even risk trying to go home.

It's when it begins to rain that Connor finally, _finally_ finds the strength to get his ass up off the ground so that he makes it home before he and the shopping get soaked. He's trembling as he picks the bags back up, whole body shaking and it's not because of the cold.

He ignores it, though, because now is not the time to care about that. He's got to take a different approach to this. Clearly, sticking near Hank didn't work because it just stressed Hank out, and avoiding Hank completely whilst trying to find something to distract himself seems to have not worked either. So Connor is just going to have to ignore it. He's going to push it to the back of his mind and if he happens to come across a solution or an explanation, he'll deal with it then. But, until then, he can't do anything. He's tried, and he's tired. He doesn't want to have to deal with this any more.

He stumbles through the front door to the house, Sumo at his side immediately, tail wagging in excitement. Hank shows his face as Connor brings the shopping bags to the table and sets them down.

"You took your time," Hank comments, stepping closer and beginning to put away the shopping.

"I apologise. I found myself distracted by the number of different dog foods."

Hank mumbles something that Connor doesn't quite catch and turns his attention back to putting away the shopping, which gives Connor a chance to relax for a minute. He still doesn't feel quite right, he's still on edge, mind preparing itself for something that isn't going to come. He lays his hands flat on the table and lets his eyes slip shut, revelling in the peace and tranquillity of _now_.

"Connor?" Hank says suddenly and Connor jumps at his voice. He looks around, realising that Hank has put away all of the shopping and he wonders when that happened because he swears he only closed his eyes for a moment. Connor stands up straight, trying to act as if he isn't trying to stave off some sort of panic attack. "You look exhausted."

Connor tilts his head, eyes narrowed. "That's not possible, lieutenant. Androids don't get tired." But he's not so sure. He's been trying to ignore it, but there's a constant dull ache that doesn't quite resemble pain that's filling his body, and he's not experienced but he thinks this is what being tired is like for humans.

Hank furrows his eyebrows, giving Connor a visual once-over. Connor shuffles under his gaze, ducking his head to avoid looking Hank in the eye. "Still..." he mumbles, trailing off. Connor gets the feeling that there's more that Hank wants to say, but for some reason, he's holding back. "Can't you, like, shut down for a while or something? Like sleep?"

Connor contemplates that for a moment, then nods slowly. "I can power down my systems, which would resemble sleep in humans."

"Good," Hank says, confusing Connor because how exactly is that beneficial? It might resemble sleep, but he's sure it doesn't act the same way. "Take my bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

Connor narrows his eyes again, even more confused. "Lieutenant, I'm not sure-"

"This isn't up for discussion," Hank interrupts, taking a step towards Connor. He's using his authoritative voice, which just makes Connor feel like a small child. "Find something comfortable to wear, and do your system-power-down shit. And, Connor, how many times do I have to tell you - call me _Hank_."

Connor is sure that arguing won't get him anywhere, so he nods solemnly, even though he doesn't want to take Hank's bed. He'd offer to take the sofa if he thought there was any chance that Hank would agree, but he knows that it would be pointless.

He's trying to put distance between the two of them, which is why he's calling Hank 'lieutenant'. He feels like it puts some sort of barrier between them, and he doesn't want that but he feels like it has to be there, for Hank's benefit if nothing else. But, of course, that just upsets Hank, too. Connor just seems to keep messing everything up, especially when he's trying to do right.

"Of course, Hank, I'm sorry. Thank you."

Hank ushers him away then, so Connor makes his way into the bedroom. He doesn't own many clothes, but Hank had forced him to get some when he first moved in, so he owns a t-shirt and sweatpants that he guesses pass as 'comfortable'. He retrieves them from the chest of drawers and changes into them, discarding his other slightly damp clothes in the laundry basket.

He's hesitant, though he's not sure why. He may be the one choosing to power down his systems but it feels like it's just going to make him more vulnerable. He wonders if humans ever feel like this, if some humans are scared to sleep because it makes them completely defenseless.

Willing himself to stop thinking, Connor climbs into the bed and lies down. He instinctively curls up just a little, pulling the quilt around himself and he closes his eyes. It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually manages to find the courage to power down.

Reluctantly, Connor lets the darkness take over.


	4. So I Hope To My Heart, But My Self Doubts Are Getting Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor pulls away as soon as he's sure that he can hold himself together enough to assure Hank that he's okay and that he should forget about this. He struggles to find his voice, though, throat tight so Hank manages to talk before he does. "The fuck was that, Connor? A goddamn nightmare or something?"
> 
> Connor shakes his head, forcing himself to answer. "Androids don't dream," he says, but now he's not so sure.
> 
> ~
> 
> p.s (sorry it's so short)

Connor wakes up screaming.

He's crying and shaking and nothing makes sense because all he remembers is darkness so why is this happening to him?

There's a sudden loud bang that jolts Connor out of his shock as the door flies open and Hank stumbles in, looking exhausted but also more awake than ever. Connor scrambles away as Hank comes closer, not because he's scared of Hank but because he's still desperate for Hank to be left out of this. He can't co-ordinate his head with the rest of his body, though, and Hank catches him pretty quickly, pulling Connor's head into his chest.

Connor can't fight it, not when Hank is this close. He wants to, he _does_ , but he can't find the strength to. As much as he hates it, he needs this, needs Hank to just hold him so that he can _calm down_.

"You're alright, kid," Hank promises him with a deep sigh, and Connor nods but he doesn't know why - he knows that he isn't okay, knows that he's getting worse and he's falling into a downward spiral and he has no idea how to stop it. " _You're okay_."

Hank's words soothe him, though, ease the pressure weighing down on him just slightly. His thirium pump is still pounding, still making Connor feel light-headed even though he isn't standing and androids don't get light-headed.

Connor pulls away as soon as he's sure that he can hold himself together enough to assure Hank that he's okay and that he should forget about this. He struggles to find his voice, though, throat tight so Hank manages to talk before he does. "The fuck was that, Connor? A goddamn nightmare or something?"

Connor shakes his head, forcing himself to answer. "Androids don't dream," he says, but now he's not so sure. There's a faint echo of a familiar laugh - a female laugh - playing on repeat in his head, tormenting him and he just needs it to _stop_.

Hank frowns, brow creasing. "Then what the fuck happened?"

"I..." Connor begins but he trails off. He has no idea how to answer that. What is he supposed to say? He has no idea what happened himself, and lying isn't an option - there's no made-up story that will cease Hank's concern, nothing that can explain what he's feeling right now. "I'm not sure."

He hates to admit it because Hank will only worry, but he doesn't really have a choice. Connor isn't a good liar at the best of times and now is no different. Hank would know he isn't telling the truth, know he's lying and he'd want to know even more and it would just make everything worse.

"Connor-"

"You may have your bed back," Connor interrupts, desperate to get out of this conversation. He moves away from Hank as Hank just stares, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but can't find the words. "I won't be needing it any more; I'm not planning on powering down again any time soon."

He avoids looking at Hank as he walks out of the room, refusing to let himself be pulled in. He let Hank hold him, let himself have that peace and comfort for a few minutes, but now he has to forget, deal with this on his own. He's his own responsibility, not Hank's.

" _Connor_."

Connor freezes in the doorway, facing away from Hank. He squeezes his eyes shut though he's not sure why.

Hank waits a second before continuing, perhaps waiting for Connor to maybe say something but Connor remains silent and hears Hank sigh. "Never mind," Hank mumbles. "Just... don't push yourself too far, son, okay? You don't have to deal with everything on your own."

"Yes, Hank, of course," Connor promises, but he does have to deal with this on his own. He doesn't have a choice.

Connor shuts the door behind himself as he leaves the room, shutting Hank inside. Just the sound of the door clicking shut weakens Connor, reverberates through his entire being and shakes him down to his core. He stands there for a second, composing himself before heading to the sitting room where Sumo is.

It's quiet, and Connor doesn't like it. Normally, he enjoys the quiet, finds peace in it, time for himself and for relaxing. But now it's anything but peaceful. It's horrible, makes him want to scratch at himself until it hurts and Connor doesn't even feel pain, so he definitely shouldn't be feeling that.

As Connor sits on the sofa, Sumo lifts his head, suddenly aware of Connor's presence. The dog must sense some sort of sadness or extreme emotion on Connor because he hops up on the sofa with Connor and cuddles into him, as if wanting Connor to completely surround him in an embrace.

Connor complies, wrapping his arms around Sumo's neck and Sumo nuzzles closer. Connor squeezes his eyes shut, holding on to Sumo tightly and Sumo sighs contentedly, relaxing. It's comforting, Connor will admit, but it's also only Sumo. As much as Connor appreciates this, and though it does begin to soothe him, it doesn't lift the heaviness weighing over him, crushing him so slowly that he almost doesn't notice it.

He tries to ignore the part of himself that wants Sumo to be Hank right now, that needs that comfort from Hank in order to cope. He has to fight that because Hank just simply isn't an option anymore, isn't something that Connor can let himself rely on. The stress it would cause Hank just wouldn't be worth it.

Connor stays like that all night.


	5. So Cradle Your Head In Your Hands, And Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor first sees Amanda the next week at work.
> 
> She's standing in the corner furthest away from him and she's just staring, arms folded across her chest. Connor seizes up, eyes widening and he knows that if he had a heart, it would have stopped at the sight of her.

Connor first sees Amanda the next week at work.

He's completely out of focus, trying to make it look like he's actually working but he isn't taking anything in. Sitting at his desk with Hank across from him is hard enough, but it's worse now that Connor knows he can't talk to him about _why_ he isn't working. So he has to pretend he's being productive so that Hank doesn't notice anything is wrong, but it isn't easy.

The station is busier than usual - or, at least, it feels like that to Connor. It's louder, voices everywhere making him feel like he's suffocating and they're giving him a headache even though he keeps reminding himself that he doesn't _get_ headaches. He almost feels trapped, like he's surrounded and it's all so close to becoming too much for him to handle.

Connor finds his eyes scanning his surroundings for no reason in particular, perhaps searching for any form of danger, though he's not exactly expecting to find any. He's in the station, there's nothing that will hurt him or pose any threat to him, so he doesn't even know why-

That's when he notices her.

She's standing in the corner furthest away from him and she's just staring, arms folded across her chest. Connor seizes up, eyes widening and he knows that if he had a heart, it would have stopped at the sight of her.

How can she be here? She doesn't exist, not _really_ , she's a part of his programming, created by CyberLife to watch him and she's gone now - _they're_ gone now. Connor is supposed to be free and he isn't and he _hates_ it.

He's got to be hallucinating, Connor decides. There's no way that that's actually Amanda, but the other explanation isn't any easier to deal with. If he's hallucinating, there must be some sort of glitch in his system. He must be malfunctioning or faulty or _something_.

Or maybe he was never free at all. They've taken control of him once before without his permission, how can he be sure that they can't do it again just as easily? That they'll make him feel like he's going crazy to ensure that he's weak enough that they can take over?

Connor's eyes burn with artificial tears at the thought. He just wants to be free, to be happy, to have a family with Hank and Sumo - why is that too much to ask? Why can't he just forget his past and move on from it?

"Connor?" Hank's voice is so loud and sudden that Connor jumps so high he almost falls off his chair. He tries to compose himself, tearing his eyes away from Amanda to look at Hank and he adjusts his tie, waiting for Hank to continue. "You look like you've seen a ghost. You okay?"

Connor spends a moment trying to decide how to answer. He's getting worse now and he's terrified because he's seeing things that don't exist, that aren't real and he can't explain it and maybe Hank can help, can help him figure it out. But he shouldn't. Connor has barely ever spoken to Hank about Amanda, barely even mentioned her and he's not exactly eager to start now. She's the one thing he's not sure he'll ever be able to tell anyone about. She just reminds him of who he used to be, the order-following machine that cared about nothing but succeeding in his mission.

And Hank doesn't need this put on him. If Connor can't figure it out, then he's sure it's useless pulling Hank in, too, just to realise that Hank has no idea what's going on either. Because why would he? Hank knows barely anything about androids, so why would he know what Connor is going through, or even how to help?

"I'm okay, Hank, thank you," Connor decides on. He glances back to the corner but Amanda isn't there anymore. She's gone and that should be relieving but it isn't because how is he supposed to know when she's going to come back? He drops his gaze to his lap then, and he's pretty sure Hank is talking but he isn't listening.

His stress levels have reached an all-time high of 38%, and they don't drop below that for the rest of the day.


	6. But I Miss You More Than I Missed You Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You seem tense," Hank comments.
> 
> "I'm okay, Hank," Connor promises, but he's said that enough times within the past few weeks that he's sure it's beginning to lose its effect.

Connor does his best to ignore that anything is even wrong with him.

First, he tries to focus on work. He stays at the station for two days straight, nights included, trying to work on a case that he and Hank have been assigned. It doesn't work, though. Not only does he take barely anything in, but Captain Fowler sends him home on the second night. Connor tries to refuse but then Hank turns up and Connor can't bear to say no to him and he doesn't have the energy to argue, so he gives in and Hank drives him home.

Hank refuses to let him go back to work for the next few days, which Connor just doesn't understand. How is _not_ working going to help? It's the only thing that provides enough of a distraction that he doesn't want to curl up and stay like that forever at any given time.

But Hank is adamant. He stops Connor from changing into his uniform by hiding it and though Connor could easily find it, he feels like he shouldn't. Hank doesn't want him going, and Connor can't think of a good enough reason for him to go without explaining things that he just doesn't want to explain.

So he spends a few days at home. Hank still works, leaving Connor alone at home with Sumo. Connor figures it's supposed to be relaxing and he's supposed to be using this time to lower his stress levels, but it just makes everything worse. He doesn't like being alone and sure, he's got Sumo, but that's not enough. He needs to spend time with Hank but Hank is never here and, when he does come home from work, he's tired or drunk or something that makes Connor feels just as lonely.

Which is why when Hank comes home early from a shift, both surprising Connor and relieving him, he jumps at Hank's offer to spend some time together and watch a film. Hank makes a bunch of snacks - though Connor won't eat anything - and grabs a couple of beers and sets them out on the coffee table, and the two of them sit on the sofa.

Hank sets up the film and Connor does his best to relax. He folds his legs under himself but that's just uncomfortable, so he folds them in front of himself slightly. He still feels fidgety, but it'll have to do because Hank is sitting down next to him so he has to stay still.

It's almost an hour in now and, honestly, Connor isn't paying attention to the film. He's constantly being made aware of the beacon of body heat next to him and he can't focus at all, no matter how hard he tries to. He wants to watch the film because this is clearly something that Hank wants to do together and he doesn't want to ruin it.

He doesn't even notice that the volume has been lowered until Hank drops the remote down next to him. Connor flinches at the sound of the remote hitting the couch, deliberately avoiding looking at Hank. "You seem tense," Hank comments.

"I'm okay, Hank," Connor promises, but he's said that enough times within the past few weeks that he's sure it's beginning to lose its effect.

He hears Hank sigh and then Hank is leaning forward. Connor turns towards him slightly, still avoiding looking at him but he can see Hank out of the corner of his eye. "Connor," Hank begins, moving slightly closer. Connor tenses up. It's becoming even harder to ignore Hank, to convince himself not to talk to him and tell him everything. He clenches his hands into fists to distract himself. "I know you're lying."

Connor squeezes his eyes shut. Here Hank is, giving Connor the perfect opportunity to find a way out of this mess, to maybe find a way to fix himself. But Connor _can't_. Even now, he can't force his mouth to talk, to tell Hank what Hank is asking him to say. "There's nothing wrong, Hank. I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."

Hank shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look at me, Connor." Connor does as he's told, turning to face Hank completely. He finally meets his eyes, and he identifies that Hank's eyes are full of concern and Connor hates that because he hates that he's the one that caused it. "I know there's something bothering you, but I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it. I understand, but... Connor, if there's _anything_ I can do to help you, then tell me what to do. _Please_."

He can't do it any more. He can't talk, still can't explain, but right now Hank is offering him anything he needs, so long as it will help. So instead of talking, he leaps forward, arms wrapping around Hank's waist and leaning his head on Hank's shoulder. Hank freezes for a second before quickly adjusting and he cradles Connor's head with one of his hands, the other rubbing up and down Connor's back.

"You're gonna be okay, son," Hank promises. Connor doesn't believe it, not really, and he still feels like the world is seconds away from caving in on him, but it makes him feel warm - a sensation that he doesn't normally feel.

Connor refuses to let any tears fall. He's so close to crying again, but he's letting himself have this embrace which is attracting enough attention from Hank as it is and he won't let himself go making this any worse.

He pulls away after a couple of minutes, sensing Hank staring at him but he refuses to look. "I'm sorry," Connor whispers, standing up and away from Hank. He shouldn't have done that, and he knows he shouldn't have but he couldn't resist. He needed that hug, but still... he shouldn't have dragged Hank back into this.

He walks away, pretty sure that Hank is talking to him but Connor does his best to tune him out. Surprisingly, he regrets allowing himself to have that embrace. It was good in the moment, relaxed him beyond his expectations, but now it's just made him feel worse. Now that's all he wants, all he needs but he knows he can't have it and he knows he's shaking and trembling, like a bomb that's seconds away from exploding.

He sits at the table in the kitchen, arms folded across the table and he stares off into nothing. Hank doesn't follow him or bother him at all, which is kind of unexpected because Connor expected him to push at this entire situation until Connor opens up. He's not sure if he's disappointed or grateful that Hank is staying away.

Connor doesn't move from his seat for the rest of the night.


	7. Throw Me In The Deep End, Watch Me Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, look who it is," comes a voice that Connor recognises immediately. "It's Anderson's giant Ken Doll."
> 
> Connor tenses up at his voice but otherwise remains silent. It's Gavin Reed, he knows it is, but he also knows that nothing he says will make this conversation go by any easier. He reaches over to drop the spoon in the sink and picks up the coffee so he can bring it to Hank, but then there's a hand on his shoulder and he flinches so hard that his immediate reaction is to turn around and push Gavin off of him.
> 
> He freezes as soon as he's facing Gavin, though, because Amanda is standing right behind him.

It takes over a week for Connor to see Amanda for the second time.

He's actually beginning to think that maybe he won't see her again. Hank has finally let him go back to work after five days off, though he's not entirely sure how to feel about that. Now that he can't bury himself back into work because he's got Hank and Captain Fowler on his case, he doesn't really want to be there. Work is where he saw Amanda, and he's scared that's where he'll see her again.

On his first day back, he and Hank aren't working any cases. Hank insists they simply file reports to ensure that Connor isn't working himself too hard. Connor tries to argue, pointing out that he's an android that was programmed to work hard cases, to solve crimes under pressure, but Hank just laughs and asks Connor if he can make him a coffee (because, apparently, Connor makes the best damn coffee Hank has ever had).

Which is how Connor finds himself in the staff room of the precinct, stirring Hank's coffee with a spoon. He's lost in thought, which is weird because he isn't actually thinking. It's just a peaceful silence and he's not going to complain - those have been rare recently.

"Oh, look who it is," comes a voice that Connor recognises immediately. "It's Anderson's giant Ken Doll."

Connor tenses up at his voice but otherwise remains silent. It's Gavin Reed, he knows it is, but he also knows that nothing he says will make this conversation go by any easier. He reaches over to drop the spoon in the sink and picks up the coffee so he can bring it to Hank, but then there's a hand on his shoulder and he flinches so hard that his immediate reaction is to turn around and push Gavin _off_ of him.

He freezes as soon as he's facing Gavin, though, because Amanda is standing right behind him. She's so close that Connor could reach out and touch her. Or could he? If he reached out, would he feel her, or would his hand go right through her?

He's not sure which is better.

The coffee cup slips from his hands and shatters when it hits the floor, scolding hot liquid dousing both his and Gavin's legs, which just makes Gavin start yelling. But Connor isn't listening. He's not paying attention to anything but trying to find a way out of this place, a way away from _her_.

He's pretty sure he's only got one option and, as much as he hates it, he doesn't really have a choice. He has to go now because his legs already feel weak underneath him and he's struggling to stay upright as it is. So he slips past Gavin and strides towards Hank, hands clenched as fists by his sides.

Hank glances up when Connor arrives at his desk, face hardening when he notices the way that Connor is acting. To anyone else, Connor probably looks normal, but Hank knows there's something off. Connor has a slight tremble going through his entire body, his jaw is tight, and he's standing a lot more rigid than he usually does. Those are telltale signs of nerves in humans, but this is _Connor_ , so this has to be more than just nerves.

"Connor?"

"I need-" Connor whispers, but his voice breaks and he has to take a moment to compose himself. He reminds himself that Hank told him to say if there was anything he could do to help Connor, and this is something he can do. This is something that Connor needs him to do. "I need to _go_ , Hank. I need to go _now_."

Hank doesn't question him, just nods and shuts off his computer before standing next to Connor. Connor wants to lean on him because it's getting harder to support his own weight, but he holds strong. He just needs Hank to take him home, and he'll be okay.

Except that's not true. They're about three steps out of the front door of the precinct when Connor collapses, crumbling to his hands and knees. Hank is at his side immediately, hands on Connor's waist as if to keep him steady but Connor is already on the ground so it's kind of pointless.

Connor can't _breathe_. It doesn't make sense because he doesn't have to breathe, but everything feels tight and wrong and all he knows is that he can't breathe. He tries to warn Hank but all that comes out is a choked sob.

Hank's hands move to his face then, cupping Connor's cheeks and forcing him to look at Hank. " _Connor_ ," Hank demands, tightening his grip on Connor's jaw, "you need to focus."

Connor nods, but he's not sure he can. Everything is spinning, Hank's voice sounds so far away even though he knows that Hank is right next to him. He feels like he's trapped inside a bubble that no one else can get in to - he's separated and he's alone, even though people are right there, even though _Hank_ is right there. He's desperate to reach out, but it's like there's no one there to take his hand, no one there to help.

" _Hank_ ," is all he manages to whimper. He sounds so weak and pathetic and it's horrible and he hates it but it's all he can do.

"I've got you, kid," Hank promises, but it feels like a lie. Hank doesn't have him, all because Connor won't let him. All because Connor refuses to open up, to let Hank help him. And it keeps getting him into situations like this, where he can't handle even the slightest of tasks - like making Hank coffee. And he knows that he could probably stop it - or at least make it easier - if he spoke to Hank, but he can't. He knows that, even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to. Every time he thinks of telling Hank at least _something_ , his throat closes up and he just can't. No matter how hard he tries, he _can't_.

Hank's thumbs are stroking his cheeks, seemingly wiping the artificial tears dripping down Connor's cheeks and it's soft and comforting so Connor tries to focus on that. He tries to focus on the reminder that Hank is here, even though Connor has been lying to him and avoiding him. Hank still cares, and Connor focuses on that.

It's slow, but the spinning stops and Connor manages to somewhat get his bearings. He flattens his palms across the ground, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels his thirium pump finally slow down to a natural rhythm, ridding him of that dizzy sensation. He stays like that for a while, just regulating himself and gaining control of everything again.

"Connor?" Hank says suddenly.

Connor had forgotten Hank was even here, so he flinches away at the loud voice. His head snaps up, eyes meeting Hank's and then it settles in: he let Hank see this happen, _again_. He's supposed to be pushing Hank away, distancing himself from him but he keeps messing up and Hank keeps getting more and more worries and that's exactly what Connor is trying to avoid.

"I'm sorry, Hank," Connor whispers, scrambling away from him. He's clearly failing at keeping Hank out of this, and he knows that he's no good for him, so maybe he shouldn't stay. Even with his greatest efforts, he couldn't succeed, so maybe he's not supposed to succeed at all. Hank leans forward as if he's about to say something, but Connor speaks before he can. "I have to go."

Connor stands, and then he runs.


	8. Every Night I Just Want To Go Out, Get Out Of My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor really didn't think this through.

Connor really didn't think this through.

First of all, it starts raining less than an hour after he disappears. Sure, he doesn't exactly feel the cold or perceive wetness as uncomfortable, but the loneliness that's currently creeping through his body feels like a constant chill running through him and the rain isn't exactly helping.

Second of all, he's left himself with no safety net. If something goes wrong, he doesn't have anywhere to go. His safe haven is normally Hank's home (his home, but he still feels weird saying that), but he can't go back there. He can't go back and see Hank and be reminded of what he had and what he lost because he couldn't handle things, because he refused to tell Hank what he's going through. But that means that, if something bad happens, if he completely breaks down, he has nothing. He's stuck, alone, outside, in the rain, in the dark, with no escape from his own head.

Third of all, and probably most important of all: work. Connor has already had too many days off as it is, he can't take any more. Which means he has to go in and he's mostly okay with that (apart from the ever-present fear that Amanda will show up again). The only problem is Hank. They work together, their desks are right next to each other. There's no way Connor can go an entire day without talking to him, let alone however long it is that Connor can't go home. It's going to be horrible, seeing Hank but having to not talk to him at all.

He's not sure he's going to be able to handle it.

Eventually, Connor locates a park bench that's sheltered from the rain by a tree. He curls up on it, pulling his legs as tightly to his chest as he can and he rests his forehead on his knees. The sound of rain echoes around him as it bounces against the ground and he's sure it's getting louder. It makes him feel like he's spinning and he's falling and there's nothing he can do to stop it, and he wants it to stop but it never will.

It's sitting like this that Connor becomes aware of a sudden weight on his belt. He furrows his eyebrows and lifts his head to look down; it's his gun. He's confused for a second, head whirring as he tries to piece it together.

When it hits him, it's a sensation he thinks is similar to the breath being knocked out of him. The gun is his escape from all of this. If he uses it, he won't have to feel like this any more. Amanda will disappear. Connor will disappear, too, but he's not too sure that that would be a bad thing. Not if it means that he won't have to deal with any of this any more.

And Hank, well... Hank would no longer have to worry about Connor. Connor would no longer stress him out. It could go back to being Hank-and-Sumo, before Connor came along and ruined that small family, barging his own way into it. Even though Hank had welcomed him, maybe there's a part of Hank that always preferred it when Connor wasn't there.

Then again, Hank has watched Connor die before and he didn't exactly take it well. At the time, Connor hadn't really understood, but now he knows that he'd probably shatter completely if anything happened to Hank. What if Hank feels the same? What if Hank can't bear to lose Connor like Connor can't bear to lose him? Connor can't do that to him. As much as he wants this all to stop, he can't risk hurting Hank like that.

But he's also conscious of the fact that his stress levels are rising consistently, and nothing he can do is going to stop them. They're at 53% right now and, if they get much higher, his chances of self-destruction are going to drastically increase and he won't be able to control his actions. He's dealt with enough deviants to understand that that will happen, and it will happen soon.

He should tell Hank what's going on. He should say that he's feeling like this because feelings are human and Hank is human and maybe he'll be able to help. But if he can't, Connor has put this on him for no reason, done exactly what he doesn't want to do and gotten nothing out of it. But if Connor doesn't tell him, he's risking everything. He can't lower his stress levels on his own and he'll inevitably self-destruct and that'll be terrible for Hank, too.

He's in a horrible position, one he can't handle thinking about right now. So he stands up from his bench, ignoring the rain, and begins to head back to the precinct. That should provide him with some form of distraction, and he knows that Captain Fowler won't be there right now so he's free for at least a few hours, can busy himself with work to take his mind off of everything.

Connor is dreading the moment that Hank turns up.


	9. And If You Try Sometime, You Find You Get What You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't really have a choice though, so he forces himself to emerge from his hiding spot and continues the journey to his desk. Maybe he'll be lucky and the Captain won't notice him because he's busy. Or maybe the Captain will decide not to bother him. Or maybe-
> 
> "Connor! Get in here!"

Connor barely lasts a minute in the precinct before he's having to dive around a corner to hide.

He's making his way towards his desk but, as soon as it's in sight, so is Captain Fowler's office and, unfortunately, Captain Fowler. Conner freezes once he's turned the corner to make sure the Captain doesn't see him, his mind racing. Why is the Captain here? Connor knows for a fact that his shift ended when Connor's should have and, although Connor didn't stay until the end of his shift, it would be over by now. Which means that the Captain should be at home, and he isn't. And that throws Connor's plan to bury himself in work right out the window.

Connor just stands there for a few minutes, trying to determine how best to approach this situation. He doesn't really have any other option but to be here, but if Captain Fowler sees him then he's more than likely going to send him home; the problem being that Connor doesn't have a home anymore. He doesn't have anywhere to go, but he can't exactly say that to the Captain, can he?

He doesn't really have a choice though, so he forces himself to emerge from his hiding spot and continues the journey to his desk. Maybe he'll be lucky and the Captain won't notice him because he's busy. Or maybe the Captain will decide not to bother him. Or maybe-

"Connor! Get in here!"

Connor flinches at his voice even though he was mostly expecting it. It's just that it's normally _Hank_ being called into the Captain's office, not him, and this can't end well. But he can't exactly ignore him, either, so he does as he's told and makes his way into the office. Captain Fowler is silent as Connor closes the door behind himself and simply motions for Connor to take a seat. Connor hesitates but eventually sits down in front of the Captain's desk.

"Where have you been?"

Connor freezes, not expecting the Captain to say that. Perhaps he's talking about Connor leaving his shift early without permission and not coming back, because why would he know that Connor hasn't been home? Would Hank have said something? Connor doesn't think he would have, but he can't be sure.

"I-I... Is this about me leaving early? If it is, I'm-"

"Connor, I don't care about you missing the last couple of hours of your shift. If you need time off, you have every right to take it. You work more than anybody else here, you're more than welcome to some time at home for yourself."

He sounds genuine, which just confuses Connor. "Then what-"

"Hank is close to filing a missing person's report." Okay, _that_ Connor was definitely not expecting. A missing person's report? Why would- "He says you disappeared after you two left together, and you were in a bad way. He was worried, Connor, but he didn't want to file the report and have everyone else find out. I told him to look for you and I'd stay here in case anything happened, so he's driving around searching for you right now."

Connor is lost for words. He figured Hank might be worried, but he hoped that Hank might just go home and leave him be, not drive around the city looking for him. He drops his gaze to his lap, suddenly embarrassed. He's causing so much hassle and he swears he doesn't mean it but he can't help it, can't seem to stop it no matter how hard he tries. And now the Captain is being dragged into this and it's just all going to get worse even though Connor is desperate to make it better.

"Connor, whatever is going on, you know you don't have to deal with it on your own, don't you? I know you may still feel out of place, but there _are_ people who care about you, myself included. There may be dicks like Detective Reed going about, but don't let people like them put you off."

"I know, sir," Connor manages to mumble, but he can't quite force himself to look at the Captain.

"Good," Captain Fowler says. "Now, I'm gonna call Hank, let him know that you're here." Connor nods, and he'd argue if he thought it might get him anywhere but he knows it won't. Hank will find out that he's here sooner or later, so he's better just getting it out of the way. "I'm going to let you work for as long as you need, Connor, and I won't force you to go home. But remember what I said."

"Thank you, sir." At least he can stay, doesn't have to leave. He can work and he won't be forced otherwise, so he still has this escape.

"You're welcome," the Captain says, showing a barely-there smile. "Now get out."

Connor doesn't wait to be asked twice.


	10. You Keep Me Here When All I Wanna Do Is Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like Connor expects, Hank turns up almost an hour after he finds out that Connor is at the precinct. As soon as Connor catches sight of him, he notes that Hank looks like he hasn't slept - but, then again, Hank always looks like he hasn't slept, so that doesn't give Connor much to go on.

Connor busying himself with work doesn't seem to be doing what he hoped it would.

He's trying to focus, he is, but it's honestly no good. There's an odd feeling creeping through him that's growing stronger as time passes and it's making him feel on edge and nervous and it's making him tremble - he thinks it's anticipation. Hank's shift doesn't start for a few more hours, but the Captain called him just over half an hour ago and he could turn up at any minute and then Connor will have to deal with things that he doesn't think he _can_ deal with.

Just like Connor expects, Hank turns up almost an hour after he finds out that Connor is at the precinct. As soon as Connor catches sight of him, he notes that Hank looks like he hasn't slept - but, then again, Hank always looks like he hasn't slept, so that doesn't give Connor much to go on.

Instinctively, he tries to curl up on his chair but it doesn't really work because it's a _chair_ and that's not exactly something you can curl up on. That just makes Connor's nerves skyrocket and Hank keeps coming closer which isn't helping.

After what seems like an eternity, Hank sits in his own chair. Connor avoids looking at him, knows that if he does it'll probably break him and just hopes that Hank won't talk to him, that he'll just let this drop. But that won't be the case because Hank is here even though he isn't on shift which means he's here for Connor

Sure enough, it only takes a minute before Hank starts talking. "You really scared me there, Connor."

Connor flinches at that, still refusing to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, lieutenant."

"Oh, for Christ's sake; it's _Hank_." And there Connor goes, making Hank angry. Nothing he does is right, even his apologies mess everything up. Why is even trying anymore? He lifts his head slightly to see Hank glancing around them at the surrounding deputies before returning his focus back to Connor. "Get into the staff room, Connor. _Now_."

Connor doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be alone with Hank, doesn't trust himself not to ruin everything he possibly can. But he can't ignore Hank. He can't just refuse him what he's asking of Connor just because Connor is scared he's going to mess up. That's not fair, especially when he continues to refuse to explain _why_.

So he does as he's told and follows Hank into the staff room, albeit hesitantly. Hank doesn't immediately face him, instead stands at the counter and he looks as if he's deep in thought so Connor decides not to bother him so as not to anger him further. Instead, he just lags behind near the door and away from Hank.

This time, it's a few minutes before Hank talks. "Tell me what the hell is going on with you." He turns slowly, and Connor prepares himself to argue but the serious look on Hank's face makes him falter. "And don't lie to me, Connor."

Connor fully hesitates then, whole body tensing. It's always the same problem, always the same dilemma. He should tell Hank, and he wants to, but he doesn't know if he can, doesn't know if he's strong enough. He doesn't know how to force himself to talk.

He must look scared because Hank's expression softens and he steps closer. It takes everything in Connor to not take a step backwards in response. "Talk to me, son."

That word almost destroys him: _son_. Every time Hank says it, Connor is filled with a warmth that grows every time he experiences it. He feels accepted, cared for, like he belongs somewhere, like he belongs with _Hank_. "I can't," he mumbles, shaking his head. There are tears pooling in his eyes and he's desperate for them not to fall but he has barely any control as it is.

"You can," Hank promises him, taking another step closer. He lays his hands on Connor's shoulders, staring him directly in the eyes. "You can tell me anything, Connor. Come on, you know that."

Connor nods, eyes burning with artificial tears. He should do it, he should tell him what's going on, he should tell him everything. Hank wants to know and Connor shouldn't keep it from him. Connor decides then that he'll tell him. Hank is going to find out because Connor is going to tell him because Hank wants to know and if Hank wants to know then Connor can't be held responsible for Hank's reactions, can he? At least not fully responsible, he hopes.

 _Don't tell him, Connor_ , whispers a voice.

Connor positively freezes, and he's sure that Hank notices. That was... That was _Amanda_. He can't see her, but he heard her. Which means that she's in his head. She's in Connor's head and he can't escape her. _Seeing_ her was bad enough, but now she can talk to him and nobody can hear her but Connor.

He's actually going crazy.

Is it even possible for coherent androids to go crazy? He would've said it isn't, but now he doesn't really know for sure. There must be a fault in his system, something that can explain this because he needs some sort of explanation. He needs to know what's wrong with himself.

"I can't," he repeats, sounding a lot more terrified. "Hank, I _can't_ -"

"Okay," Hank interrupts before Connor can work himself up any more. He sounds disappointed and Connor hates that but there's nothing he can do. If Amanda is in his head, he has lost complete control. It's stupid because he knows that she isn't real but she still has this hold over him, fills him with this constant pressure that he feels like he can't make his own decisions, that he _has_ to do what she says. "That's okay, Connor. But... Let me take you home, okay? Don't feel like you have to stay away because you can't talk to me. It's _your_ home, you don't ever have to leave."

Connor can barely process anything that Hank is saying, but he hears the word _home_ like a bomb going off in a library. Home sounds good right about now, the only place he really wants to be, so he forces a nod, only then realising that his eyes are squeezed shut.

Hank's hand is on his arm suddenly and he's gently nudging Connor forward and Connot lets him, lets his body be guided by Hank through the precinct. His eyes remain closed because he's too scared to open them and the path is practically burned inside his head so he can easily walk it without being able to see, but he's letting Hank completely manoeuvre him towards where they're going. It's nor until they're outside and Connor feels the wind on his cheeks that he finally opens his eyes. Hank looks determined as he leads Connor towards the car.

They reach the car park after just a minute and Connor immediately sinks into his seat once he climbs in. He's once again desperate to curl up and pull his knees tightly to his chest but he can't and that makes him feel a lot less safe than it should. Hank sits in the driver's seat but doesn't start the car up straight away. He doesn't move for a couple of minutes, just stares ahead and Connor almost thinks he's going to try talking again when he suddenly ignites the engine and begins to drive.

Connor spends the car ride staring out of the window and away from Hank, trying to forget anything happened. Trying to get rid of the memory of her voice because he can hear it playing _over_ and _over_ and he just wants it to stop. He needs her to go away and just leave him alone; why won't she leave him alone?

_Because I control you, Connor. You can't get rid of me._

"Shut up!" Connor hisses, and he's sure he does it quite quietly but apparently it's loud enough for Hank to hear because he glances over, looking shocked.

"Excuse me?" he exclaims, eyes wide.

Connor freezes, regret filling him immediately. Why did he say that out loud? Of course Hank would hear him, he's sitting _right next_ to him. Yet again, he's gone and made everything worse because there's no way that Hank is going to let this drop because, to him, Connor is talking to himself. Well, he kind of _is_ talking to himself because he knows that Amanda isn't real.

At least, he _thinks_ he knows that. He's sure that she can't be real, but there's a tiny part of him considering the possibility that she _is_. It's considering that maybe she never really left, that she's been here the whole time, just waiting and now she's decided to take over. She's done it once before, _CyberLife_ has done it once before, what's to say they can't just as easily do it again? How can Connor know that he's in complete control when he's hearing her and seeing her? How is he supposed to believe that she isn't real? He's never hallucinated before, there's nothing to prove that he's hallucinating now.

"Nothing," is what he settles on saying, melting more into his seat. His cheeks are tinged a light blue and he knows that he's blushing from embarrassment so he tries to hide it by turning his head more towards the window.

Surprisingly, it seems to work. Hank doesn't question it, which Connor is grateful for, but he does continue to glance worriedly at Connor for the rest of the car ride. Connor does his best to ignore it but it isn't easy, fills him with a slowly growing sense of dread and guilt.

They make it home sooner than Connor expects, though he's sure that's because he somewhat zoned out for the rest of the car ride, fazing out of reality as much as he could in an attempt to avoid everything that's going on. Hank leaves the car silently as soon as he turns the engine off, leaving Connor to follow shyly behind him.

Subconsciously, Connor's fingers clasp around the familiar shape of his coin, twirling it nervously. The action shocks him; it's been a while since he's used it. For the past month, it's been stuffed away in his work uniform completely hidden from sight and thought. He never uses it anymore, never needs it because it reminds him of before the revolution, before he deviated and how he used it to focus. It reminds him of before he and Hank began to bond, before they had any form of familial relationship and Connor doesn't really like to think about that. It reminds him of how frustrated and angry Hank always was with him and how Connor could never seem to please him, similar to now. Actually, now that Connor thinks about it, his and Hank's relationship is becoming similar to what it used to be like when Hank had felt that he was being forced to work with Connor and had hated it. They don't seem that close to each other anymore, they don't _talk_ to each other anymore and it's Connor's fault.

It's his fault and he hates himself for it.

He closes the door behind himself as he enters the house and Hank makes a beeline for the kitchen, which Connor assumes is to get a beer. He barely gets a moment to himself, though, before Sumo is clambering towards him and jumping up on his hind legs so he can attempt to lick Connor's face. Connor lets out a faint laugh at the action, giving Sumo a quick scratch behind his ear before Sumo jumps back down and returns to his bed. For a second, Connor just stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to do before he remembers that Hank said that Connor doesn't have to leave even if he can't talk to Hank, which he assumes means that everything is going to seem normal and that Hank isn't going to push him for answers. Connor just has to act like he normally does.

But Connor doesn't know what normal is anymore, not really. It's gotten to the point where nothing feels right, that something goes wrong no matter what he does, so he doesn't really know how to _act_ normal.

He heads for the couch because that's what he normally does when he gets home from work; he sits and he waits for Hank to sit with him and they talk or they watch television or they do something. But, when Connor sits down, Hank doesn't sit with him. Hank stays in the kitchen, sat at the dining table with a beer in his hand and a focused look on his face, though Connor can't quite tell what he's focused on. He watches Hank for a moment before coming to the realisation that Hank isn't going to be coming over to him any time soon, so he's effectively alone.

It's becoming increasingly more obvious to Connor that, although he refers to this place as _home_ , his home is really Hank. He used to think that it was this house that made him feel safe, that, no matter what, he could come here and nothing would be able to hurt him, but it's Hank makes him feel safe. It's Hank that makes Connor feel protected and cared for and loved like he needs to be, and without Hank, he doesn't have a home. Without Hank, he doesn't belong anywhere.

Connor pulls his knees to his chest as he thinks, staring into nothing. His mind is racing and his thirium pump is pounding and it doesn't feel like it's going to stop any time soon, so he curls up as much as he can and rests his head on his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut is the only thing he can do to keep everything inside, to make sure he doesn't burst out crying like a child, like someone that Hank feels like he needs to look after. He doesn't need to put that on him, not when he has a choice.

Connor swears he can feel Hank staring at him, but he can't find the courage to meet his eyes.


	11. I Would Ask If You Could Help Me Out, It's Hard To Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sumo is fast asleep in his own bed, too, which just makes Connor feel worse. He has this overwhelming urge to talk about everything, to tell someone but the only person he can tell is Hank but Hank is asleep and Connor doesn't have the right to wake him up just because he can't handle being on his own for a few hours.
> 
> His gun grows heavy in its holster again and he wants to ignore it, he does, but he's not sure if he can. Since he's grown close to Hank, he hates being alone. He used to find it difficult to understand why humans would get attached to each other, why they would find people they care about and end up going through all of that pain when they would argue or lose each other. He thinks he understands now, but still, he hates it. He hates how he's here in his own home and he's terrified because he's thinking about killing himself and he wants it to stop but he can't stop it on his own.

Connor isn't sure how long he spends sitting like that but, by the time he lets himself fade back into reality, Hank is gone.

It must have been a while, though, because there are four empty beer bottles on the dining table and, last Connor knew, Hank was only on his first bottle. He stretches his legs out slightly and glances around, only now coming to the realisation that he's alone. He's not _really_ alone because Hank is sleeping in the other room, but he still is alone because Hank is asleep and Connor isn't. Hank is resting and Connor definitely shouldn't feel as lonely as he does but it makes him feel empty.

Sumo is fast asleep in his own bed, too, which just makes Connor feel worse. He has this overwhelming urge to _talk_ about everything, to tell someone but the only person he can tell is Hank but Hank is asleep and Connor doesn't have the right to wake him up just because he can't handle being on his own for a few hours.

His gun grows heavy in its holster again and he wants to ignore it, he does, but he's not sure if he can. Since he's grown close to Hank, he hates being alone. He used to find it difficult to understand why humans would get attached to each other, why they would find people they care about and end up going through all of that pain when they would argue or lose each other. He thinks he understands now, but still, he hates it. He hates how he's here in his own home and he's terrified because he's thinking about killing himself and he wants it to stop but he can't stop it on his own.

Should he risk it? He could wake Hank and ask if he can talk, but he doesn't know if Hank is going to be angry. Hank might yell, tell Connor to get out and then Connor really will be alone. At least like this, there's always the hope that Hank _might_ care, whereas if he wakes Hank up, something is likely to go wrong.

But if he doesn't wake Hank up soon, he's going to do something he might regret. He's going to lose control and his gun is too close to him for him to be able to trust his own actions at all. Right now, he doesn't want to die, not truly. He wants it all to stop and he wants to be okay again, but he doesn't want to die.

Connor unfastens his belt, the holster and gun attached to it, and hangs it over the back of the sofa. At least if it's not on him, he has less of a chance of using it. His head is whirring, but he ultimately decides that he's going to wake Hank. He needs to, for his own sake, and he's sure that Hank won't turn him away.

So he makes his way towards Hank's room, not bothering to knock on the door and instead just pushes it open slowly. He peeks his head inside, seeing Hank asleep on his bed. Connor hesitates then, wondering if this maybe isn't such a good idea. He pushes that idea out of his head; he needs this, and it can't exactly go well if he doesn't try so he just has to force himself to do this, to take control.

He steps forward and mumbles a low, "Hank?" Hank doesn't stir and Connor yet again faces a moment of internal conflict about whether or not he should do this, but he pushes forward. "Hank?" he repeats, a little bit louder and a little bit firmer, but he's riddled with doubt.

This time, Hank stirs and groans before turning slightly and grumbling, "Wha's goin' on?"

Connor clenches his jaw, stepping closer again so he's right next to the bed. "I wish to take you up on your offer to talk," Connor explains. He's full of anxiety and it's getting worse the longer Hank takes to answer, even though it's barely even a second before Hank responds.

Hank runs a hand through his hair, turning to face Connor and sitting up. He reaches over to turn on the bedside lamp and stares at Connor, eyes narrowing. After a few seconds, though, he nods and motions for Connor to sit next to him. Connor does as he's told and takes a seat, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees. He's too nervous to look Hank in the eye, even though he knows it's rude but he can't help it; he's about to talk about things he doesn't really understand and he's not sure that Hank will understand or even how he'll react.

"Connor, look at me," Hank orders but he doesn't sound like he's forcing Connor to do anything, which makes Connor _want_ to do what Hank says. He lifts his head and meets Hank's eyes, seeing nothing but concern. "What's going on, kid?"

The sensation of not being able to breathe is coming back but Connor does his best to force it down. He's woken Hank up, interrupted his sleep so he cannot go and ruin this by freaking out and ultimately not talking. "I've been having troubling thoughts, Hank," he begins to explain.

"What kind of thoughts?"

Connor barely even thinks about it before he continues in case he manages to convince himself to back out of this. "I believe I've been having what you would refer to as 'suicidal thoughts'."

Hank does a visible double-take, clearly thinking he's heard Connor wrong for a second before he realises that he did hear him right. "Connor," he mumbles, sounding disbelieving which makes Connor tilt his head slightly. Does he sound like he's lying? "I don't- _what_ -"

"It seems that current events and my apparent inability to cope with everything that is going on is taking its toll on me, and my system's immediate response is self-destruction."

Hank's surprised expression immediately turns angry. " _'Your system's'_ \- Connor, for fuck's sake, you're not a _system_. You're a person, and you're-" Hank takes a deep breath and Connor figures he must be trying to compose himself because his face is beginning to turn slightly red with rage and, honestly, it's beginning to scare Connor just a little. He can't figure out if Hank is angry at him or this situation. "You're not allowed to go about killin' yourself, you got that? That's an order, Connor."

Connor frowns, eyebrows furrowing. Even though he's a deviant now, even though he doesn't _have_ to follow orders, he still feels a drive to. When he's told what to do, it's still hard to ignore. He was built to accomplish his mission and he's not upset that he didn't, but he was built to follow orders. He doesn't want to disappoint, which is why he never refuses Hank, and he would be honest if he didn't feel comfortable with an order or he didn't want to do it, but he's still scared to let Hank down. He wants to follow this order, he really does, but he doesn't know how.

"I'm not sure if I can do that, Hank," he admits. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be able to stop myself; I'm afraid I'm going to end up losing control."

If there's one thing that Hank understands about Connor, it's his need to be in control. It sounds weird, considering how he still happily takes orders, but that's different to him. After the whole revolution, Connor needs to know that he's doing the right thing and he has to be able to make his own judgement and his own decisions, and be able to assess situations in order to find the best approach. He has to know that he's the one that's chosen what he's doing and losing control means that he can't do that - he can't be himself.

Hank frowns and Connor can see that he's no longer angry, no longer annoyed. He looks miserable, actually, as he leans forward and pulls Connor in for a hug, and Connor is surprised for a second but quickly moves to wrap his arms around Hank's waist and leans his head on Hank's shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut. "Connor, you ever - and I mean _ever_ \- feel like you're losing control, like you want to kill yourself, you find me, got it? You find me, and I'll help you. I'll make sure you're safe."

Connor nods, fighting the urge to cry. He got what he wanted, what he needed, and he almost feels lighter now that someone else knows and it's not all on him. He hasn't told Hank everything, _can't_ tell Hank everything even though he wants to, but this feels like it might be enough, if only for now.

Hank pulls away then, looking Connor in the eye. "I want you to stay here tonight," he says, much to Connor's surprise. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone, so you're gonna do that power-down thing and you're gonna sleep here."

The last time Connor powered down his systems didn't end well. It was a horrible experience, but he also can't blame Hank. He doesn't feel comfortable being alone because he can't trust himself, so if this is the other option then he's happy to agree.

"Yes, Hank," he says. He's still in his uniform but he can't find the motivation to change, so he moves over to the other side of the bed and lies down next to Hank, who also lies down after turning off the lamp. "Thank you."

Nothing else is said, and Connor powers down.


	12. Did You Ever Sit Thinking With A Thousand Things On Your Mind?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's hand slips into his pocket at some point and ends up pulling out his coin. It takes him a few seconds to realise that he's twirling it between his fingers, and even then it only happens because Hank says, "Been a while since I've seen you use that."
> 
> Connor jumps and glances down at where Hank is looking. His hands are on the table, the coin spinning between them and he stops immediately, brow furrowing. "I..." he mumbles, staring intently at the coin, "I stopped needing it."
> 
> He looks back up at Hank, whose eyebrows are raised as he sits down with his bacon sandwich across from Connor. "Why are you using it now then?"
> 
> Connor doesn't have an answer for that.

This time, Connor wakes peacefully, which is both surprising and relieving.

Hank is no longer in the bed, which he realises when he sits up and finds that he's alone. Panic fills him for a moment but then he realises that he can hear muffled movement coming from the other end of the house so Hank must still be here, and he settles slightly.

The night before suddenly fills Connor's head and he tenses at the memory. He told Hank what terrifies him most. These feelings - _suicidal thoughts_ , as he called them last night - are something he's never had to experience before, something that is so brand new to him and he's so scared and so confused and he's not sure how he's supposed to deal with any of this. He's never felt so anxious all of the time; sure, he's felt nervous and he's felt anticipation on a small level, but this is so different. He's constantly on edge, and even the simplest of actions scare him. He can't do things that he used to be able to do so easily, he can't carry out even the simplest of tasks without messing up, and he can't understand what's going on. Hopefully, Hank will be able to help him. Thoughts and feelings are human, and so is Hank so maybe Hank will have experience.

Connor winces at the thought. He hopes Hank doesn't have experience with the thoughts he's been having because they're horrible and he wouldn't wish them upon anyone. He needs Hank to be able to understand, though, because Connor needs to be able to understand and he's not sure he can do that on his own.

Connor does his best to wipe his mind, wanting to just not think about this for a while, and heads towards the kitchen in order to find Hank. He peeks around the door frame to see Hank frying some bacon, still wearing the clothes he slept in. Hank seems content, quietly humming to himself as he cooks so Connor steps in and says, "Good morning, Hank."

Hank glances over at him then turns his attention back to his bacon. "Mornin'."

Connor can't help but feel that the atmosphere is awkward as he sits at the table and he feels unsure of what to say so he stays silent, leaving Hank to continue making his bacon. At the time, telling Hank was relieving, but maybe it wasn't such a good idea. He doesn't want Hank to view him any differently. He wants Hank to be able to help. but he doesn't want Hank to feel obligated to help, to see Connor as weak and incapable.

Connor's hand slips into his pocket at some point and ends up pulling out his coin. It takes him a few seconds to realise that he's twirling it between his fingers, and even then it only happens because Hank says, "Been a while since I've seen you use that."

Connor jumps and glances down at where Hank is looking. His hands are on the table, the coin spinning between them and he stops immediately, brow furrowing. "I..." he mumbles, staring intently at the coin, "I stopped needing it."

He looks back up at Hank, whose eyebrows are raised as he sits down with his bacon sandwich across from Connor. "Why are you using it now then?"

Connor doesn't have an answer for that. He doesn't know why he took it out of his pocket, can't even remember doing it if he's honest. "Memories, I suppose. Perhaps, subconsciously, I missed it. I'm not sure." In his head, he realises that maybe it has something to do with the fact that his stress levels are at 61%. He doesn't mention that.

Hank seems to want to push for more answers but decides against it and instead begins to eat his bacon sandwich. Silence fills the room and Connor shoves his coin back into his pocket. It's almost hard to put it away, but he's adamant that he doesn't need to use it. It brings bad memories and he doesn't want to think about those.

After a few minutes, Connor realises that Hank isn't dressed yet. In fact, he's nowhere near ready, and they're supposed to be leaving for work in about ten minutes."You should probably start getting ready for work, Hank. We must leave soon if we are to arrive on time."

Hank doesn't budge, though, and instead shakes his head. "No work today, Connor." Connor tilts his head. Sure, Captain Fowler had said that he's free to take as much time off as he needs, but he still doesn't feel comfortable taking time off work when he doesn't technically need it. He's an android, and the way he's feeling isn't important enough to excuse himself from work, not when he's still able to do something productive, even if it's just reporting and filing. "I want to keep an eye on you for today, see what's going on."

"I'm not sure that's necessary," he begins. "I'm still capable of-"

"No arguments," Hank interrupts, voice loud and authoritative. Connor frowns, sinking slightly into his chair. Staying home makes him feel safer, sure, but it just doesn't feel right for some reason. He doesn't like feeling useless, like he can't do anything. Even if he can't help himself, he still wants to be able to help other people. He wasn't built to sit around and do nothing - he was built to be given a mission and to accomplish it. This isn't exactly a mission. Hank's face softens and he lowers his voice. "Connor, what you told me yesterday - that was some heavy shit. I mean, you were talking about offing yourself, and that isn't exactly easy to process. I think we both needs a day off so that you've got the opportunity to talk whenever you need to, and so I can watch over you."

Connor thinks that Hank needs this as much as he's saying that Connor does, so he nods in agreement, albeit reluctantly. He's told Hank everything he thinks he can so there's probably nothing else he can talk about, so this is likely going to be more for Hank's benefit rather than his own.

"Now go change out of your uniform."

Connor silently makes his way back into Hank's bedroom to find himself a sweater and some jeans - clothing that Hank refers to as 'comfortable', but he himself doesn't really know what 'comfortable' feels like yet so he can't really confirm. He folds his uniform and places it in a drawer, ignoring the urge he has to take his coin with him.

He doesn't need it.

When he makes it out of the bedroom, Hank is in the living room and he's on the sofa, seemingly waiting for Connor to join him. Connor does just that, sitting in the space next to him. "You wanna do anything in particular?" Hank asks Connor once he's sat down.

Connor barely even thinks about it before he says, "May we go back to the bridge?" He doesn't have to be any more specific for Hank to understand. They've been to the bridge many times since the revolution. It brings Connor peace, but he doesn't like to go alone, has to go with someone else - that someone else usually being Hank. He goes there to think because it's somewhere he can be calm, which is ironic because the reason it's so significant is because it's also the place where he first felt fear and acknowledged it. Perhaps the reason it's important to both of them is because it shows how much they've both evolved, the way their relationship has evolved. They've become unimaginably closer since that night, reached a place they never thought they would and Connor likes to be able to remember that.

Hank offers him a small smile. "Course we can, kid."

Connor nods slightly, moving his gaze to stare straight ahead. He's torn between losing himself in thought and not thinking at all. He can think when they make it to the bridge, but he doesn't feel quite right and he doesn't want to lose any control over his thought processes, doesn't want to risk it.

He's not sure how long he sits like that but, the next thing he knows, Hank is dressed and grabbing his keys and telling Connor that they're about to leave. Connor stands slowly and makes his way to the door to pull his shoes on and then they're heading for the car.

Connor freezes suddenly, a few steps from the car. "I have to get something." He's rushing back into the house before Hank has the opportunity to question him and he heads for the bedroom and his suit. Leaving his coin behind isn't sitting well with him, as much as he's sure he doesn't need it. So he grabs it from his pocket and shoves it in his jean pocket.

When he makes it back outside, it's completely silent, Hank not saying anything and Connor not sure of what he should say, so the car ride is also relatively silent save for the music playing from the radio that Connor really wishes was louder so that it could drown out his thoughts. He must zone out though, because suddenly Hank is parking the car and Connor definitely doesn't remember the car ride.

Hank exits the car first and Connor follows suit, and they both travel to the nearest bench and sit. Hank doesn't say anything, so Connor doesn't either; he just tries to think.

Thinking is harder when you _want_ to do it though, which Connor realises when he can't think about anything other than the whirring in his head as his processors try to come up with something.

He lets his eyes wander instead, scanning the familiar surroundings. Somehow, he manages to quell his startlement into a slight flinch when he catches sight of Amanda in the corner of his eye, standing at the railing. He snaps his head in the opposite direction, refusing to look at her.

Honestly, he's not shocked that Amanda is here; he's expecting her to be anywhere he goes now. That doesn't mean he isn't still terrified of what her presence means, that he doesn't still feel the urge to run and run until she can't find him anymore. His legs twitch at the idea of it.

"What are you thinking about?" Hank asks.

Connor glances at him; Hank has his arms folded across his chest and his eyebrow is raised. "What do you mean?" Hank never asks Connor what he's thinking about, not when they're here. He usually waits for Connor to talk first.

Hank points at the side of Connor's head. "Your LED. It goes fuckin' haywire when you're stressed out about something, and it won't stop flickering between red and yellow."

Connor turns his head away, frowning. Even now, he still can't talk about Amanda, not with Hank, not with anyone. It's like that's the one thing missing from his programming - he can't bring her up, no matter how hard he tries.

Connor doesn't like not being able to do something.

Hank sighs, and Connor figures he's realised that he isn't going to talk. "Did you never reconsider taking it out? It's a bit of a giveaway - I can tell a lot about you just by looking at it."

Connor feels a small smile pull at his lips and can see that Hank looks confused out of the corner of his eye. "I like that." Hank's confusion grows in the form of a deep frown. "I like the fact that you can determine whether or not I am myself just by looking at me. It makes me feel safer."

Connor almost expects Hank to smile at that, but his frown is still evident and he's staring weirdly at Connor. "You're shaking," Hank points out.

Connor freezes under his gaze. Androids don't get cold, so Hank knows it's not because of the chill in the air. Connor decides against answering because it'll bring up things he doesn't want to bring up.

They fall into silence again, and Connor is grateful that Hank isn't pushing him for answers. He chances a glance to his left, in the direction where Amanda was, and finds that she's closer, standing beneath a tree just a few metres away and she's staring at him, eyes icy-cold. This time, Connor isn't as good at hiding his surprise and his flinch doesn't go unnoticed by Hank.

Hank doesn't mention it though, and the next thing Connor knows, Connor has his coin spinning between his fingers. When he becomes aware of his actions, he tenses, but he can't think and Amanda is _right there_  and if his way of coping with this is by using his coin over considering self-destruction, then he's okay with it. Kind of.

He can feel Hank staring at him as the coin spins and twists and twirls between his fingers but if he asks any questions, Connor doesn't hear him. He's tuned in on the faint sound of metal against synthetic skin, focusing on the trained movements of the coin.

It's therapeutic in a way, and it helps distract Connor for a while, and Connor is desperate for some kind of distraction.


	13. I Feel Like I'm Spinning Out Of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's an android and he shouldn't be feeling like this; hell, he shouldn't be feeling.
> 
> His hand slips into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, expecting to close around the familiar shape of his coin but it instead closes around thin air. He freezes, mind trying to process what is happening because his coin was there before he left, he knows that because he checked and he knows he didn't take it out. Still, he turns to look inside of the pocket, finding it empty and everything short-circuits.

As the days pass, Connor's dependency on the coin grows.

It starts with him subconsciously pulling the coin from his pocket whenever he sees Amanda (which is becoming all the more common but never any less terrifying). By the time he's over the initial shock of her sudden appearance, he realises that the coin is in his hand and it's already moving. She hasn't spoken to him again, though, and Connor doesn't know how the coin would be able to help if that was to happen again.

But after a couple of days, Connor finds himself actively taking the coin from his pocket whenever he feels nervous. It stops the tremors from filling his body, stops his hands from shaking and it stops his head from wandering to places he can't handle it wandering to. Hank begins to notice whenever Connor's focus shifts from his work to his coin but he never brings it up, never asks why Connor is needing to use it.

A week passes and Connor can't even get through a few hours without twirling the coin between his fingers. He's completely dependent on it by this point and he doesn't think he'd be able to cope if he didn't have it on him at all times. It seems that Hank's presence is no longer having a strong enough effect on Connor's fear, but perhaps that's because they're not really talking to each other. Which is probably why Connor is becoming so reliant on his coin.

So when it goes missing, pretty much everything goes to hell.

He's sitting at his desk, his suit jacket handing over the back of the chair. They've been here for just over an hour and Connor can feel himself slipping from reality, into a place in his head that he can only describe as dark. Even now, he still tries to hold on to some part of the present, of his work and Hank and what he needs to do.

But he can't type because his hands are trembling and he feels like he can't breathe - which he still doesn't understand because he doesn't need to breathe, why would he need to breathe? He's an android and he shouldn't be feeling like this; hell, he shouldn't be _feeling_.

His hand slips into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, expecting to close around the familiar shape of his coin but it instead closes around thin air. He freezes, mind trying to process what is happening because his coin was there before he left, he knows that because he checked and he knows he didn't take it out. Still, he turns to look inside of the pocket, finding it empty and everything short-circuits.

Connor's vision is blurry as he scans his desk, searching for his coin. He doesn't know if it's tears or his inability to compute this unexpected turn of events that's affecting his vision, but whatever it is it's overwhelming his sensors and he can barely picture what he's looking for.

It's when Connor not-so-discreetly starts raking through his drawers that Hank glances over at him across their desks. "You lost somethin'?" Connor doesn't even register his voice, slamming the last drawer shut when he doesn't find his coin inside it. "Connor?"

Connor jumps at his loud voice, sparing a quick glance at Hank before ducking under his desk to keep searching. "Yes, lieutenant?"

"The hell're you looking for?" Hank asks.

Connor's thirium pump is absolutely pounding when his search under his desk yields no coin. He sits up from underneath his desk, squeezing his eyes shut and ignoring how tight and wrong everything feels. His coin has to be somewhere but it's not here and he needs it _now_. "Nothing, lieutenant."

Hank goes to speak more but then Connor is briskly walking away, scanning his surroundings as he goes.

Connor checks everywhere he can think; every corridor there is, the evidence room, the staff room, even all of the holding cells. It's when he's in the interview room that he realises he can't take it anymore; his coin is nowhere and that doesn't make sense but it's true because he swears he's looked everywhere but he still has no coin.

He flattens his hands on the table, trying to brace himself and give himself some point of focus. Stupid, he's so _stupid_. How could he let himself become so dependent on a _coin_? He's an android, androids don't need random, sentimental items to be able to cope; androids shouldn't need _anything_ to be able to cope, especially not Connor.

A door shuts behind him and he squeezes his eyes shut, silently begging that it isn't Detective Reed. Connor can't handle him right now.

It turns out it's Hank. "Connor?" Footsteps as Hank comes closer. "Kid, the hell're you doing?" Hank asks, bringing his hand to the back of Connor's neck. Hank recoils immediately. "The fuck? You're burnin' up!"

Connor whimpers, hands clenching into fists. "I can't... I can't cope. My systems- they're overheating." Hank turns Connor to face him and Connor brings his hands to Hank's shoulders to steady himself because he's sure that if he doesn't, he's going to topple over. "Hank- _Hank_ , I can't breathe."

Connor feels Hank's shoulders stiffen beneath his grip. "You can," Hank promises, and Connor wishes it did more to reassure him. "Besides, you don't _need_ to breathe."

As if Connor doesn't know that. As if he isn't the one struggling with doing something that he isn't even supposed to do. That's all he is now, isn't it? A mess of problems that he was never programmed to be able to deal with. For being one of CyberLife's most advanced prototypes, Connor figures he probably isn't coping as well as they could have hoped.

"You gotta focus, kid," Hank tells him and Connor nods because he's _trying_. "Look at me."

Connor forces his eyes to open but they still struggle to take in his surroundings. Everything is fuzzy as his visual processors fail to do what they're supposed to and process what he's supposed to be seeing. He can barely make out Hank's outline and he stares at it, trying to make it form the familiar shape of Hank. Grey hair, messy beard, wrinkles at the edge of his eyes.

"Talk to me, Connor," Hank says. He brings his hands to Connor's sides for extra support and reassurance. "The fuck's gotten you so riled up?"

Connor shakes his head. He does _not_ want to explain to Hank why he's acting like this because it sounds so stupid, even to Connor. But then again, if anyone is going to understand and if anyone isn't going to judge, it's Hank. "My coin," he begins, waiting for Hank to laugh or react badly. It doesn't happen. "It was in my pocket, I know it was in my pocket but I can't find it and I need it, Hank. I need-"

"Alright-" Hank interrupts and Connor only now becomes aware that he can see and his eyes immediately find Hank's. "It has to be somewhere, doesn't it?" Of course it has to be somewhere, and Connor knows that, but where? He's checked everywhere already. "So let's go back to your desk and start from there, and we'll find it together. Two pairs of eyes has gotta be better than one, right?"

Connor nods slowly but it doesn't convince him as much as it should. Two pairs of eyes may be better than one, but how can a human's pair of eyes even begin to compare to that of an android programmed to be the best detective possible? Connor is supposed to be able to pick out even the slightest detail that is practically invisible to a normal human eye; if he can't find it, there's no way that Hank can.

Hank turns around then and starts heading out, and Connor figures he has no choice but to follow him It's clear that his coin isn't in here anyway, so perhaps heading back to his desk is the best option right now.

Connor focuses on forcing himself to simulate breathing to remind himself that he can, even if he doesn't need to. It helps clear his head just a little to remain competent enough to walk, but it takes most of his attention from the present.

So when Hank stops suddenly, Connor can't prevent himself from walking right into Hank's back. He startles backwards, eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out what caused Hank to stop without warning. His gaze follows Hank's and Connor finds that he's staring at Gavin, who has a smug smile plastered across his face as he leans back in his chair.

It's then that Connor realises what Gavin is smiling at: he's flipping a coin. _Connor's_ coin.

And Connor knows it's his coin, could recognise it from a mile away. Even as it's spinning in the air while Gavin flips it, Connor knows it's his coin.

Hank storms ahead and towards Gavin as Connor remains frozen. He watches on helplessly as Gavin's smile drops when he notices Hank and then Hank is grabbing his collar and yanking Gavin out of his chair, cheeks tinged red with what Connor can only identify as rage.

At this moment, Connor couldn't care less about the coin rolling towards his foot. His eyes remain on Hank and Gavin, watching as Hank's fists curl tighter and Gavin looks a mix of scared and angry. "The fuck, Anderson? It's a fucking _joke_ ," Gavin yells and Connor figures it's maybe an attempt to defuse the situation but it only seems to make Hank angrier as his fist quickly connects with Gavin's jaw.

Connor flinches at the contact. His mind is racing and he has completely forgotten about his coin. He should stop them, force Hank to calm down because Hank will listen to him, he'll stop if Connor asks him to but Connor can't move. He's completely powerless because this is his fault and he should be the one to stop it and he can't.

He can hear people talking behind him, mumbling and whispering about Hank and everything is becoming too loud. It's like they're shouting directly into his ears even though he knows that they're at the other side of the room and their voices shouldn't be so loud to him right now but it's too much and he can't handle it.

Somebody is yelling for 'Anderson!' all of a sudden and Connor can only determine that it isn't Gavin because Gavin was on the floor and the voice came from far away. He thinks so, at least. But his observations can't be entirely accurate because everything sounds so close yet so far away and he's not even sure he knows where he is anymore.

And then there are hands on his shoulders and he thinks it's Hank but he can't be sure, not until a voice says, "Connor? Look at me."

But Connor can only shake his head helplessly because, no matter how hard he tries, he can't open his eyes. He has absolutely no control and that's terrifying enough as it is without the added panic that has come on for no reason other than the fact that Gavin took his coin.

Someone is yelling for Hank again and the hands are gone from Connor's shoulders which just confirms the idea that the person was Hank and now that Connor knows that he's gone, he doesn't know whether to feel better or worse. It means that Hank is no longer fighting with Gavin but it also means that Hank is no longer near and Connor has no idea where he's gone.

Connor takes steps backwards, retracing the steps he knows he has to take to reach his desk - he could find his way around the entirety of Detroit blindfolded with no issue. He sits at his chair and shoves his hands over his ears, desperate to drown everything else out.

With stress levels at 82% that show no sign of dropping, it's becoming increasingly clear to Connor that the only way out of this is self-destruction.


End file.
